


Just Like Old Times

by TheFourtiethHorseman



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dysfunctional Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Non-Consensual Spanking, Punishment of an adult, Tim Drake is Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 12:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15534582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFourtiethHorseman/pseuds/TheFourtiethHorseman
Summary: "It felt almost… not quite comforting, but at least familiar.  He’d never liked it as a kid (of course he didn’t), but he’d understood why he’d deserved it.  Get punished, get forgiven, and everything was fine again."





	Just Like Old Times

**Author's Note:**

> I had a vivid daydream of Dick bent over and getting walloped very stoically, the most pissed off expression on his face thinking about how it really wasn't fair to get spanked with an armored glove. And then of Barbara laughing her ass off at his dispense. 
> 
> So here we are. Dick and Bruce obviously have a very long and complicated relationship, and I like to play with the old comics that showed Dick Grayson got his fair share of spankings as Boy Wonder. I don't picture Bruce as abusive, especially not with kid Dick. But sometimes relationships can become damaged as children grow into adulthood, and sometimes it takes a long, long time to put them back together properly. Bruce wasn't himself after Jason's death, and that change lasted a long time. Dick probably took a lot of the brunt of that, especially being as hotheaded as he is. 
> 
> So basically in this fic, Bruce is grieving and failing to cope, and Dick is young, reckless, and still rebelling against his father figure after the big Blow Up. If characterization seems off, let me know.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” was the first thing Dick heard when he set foot in the Batcave.  He dropped the kickstand and swung himself off the bike, stretching his back and sighing heavily. It had been a long night. 

 

At a younger age that voice would have put the fear of God into him.  To be fair, though, even just the sight of the Dark Knight tended to put the fear of God into everybody.  But Dick had known Bruce for a long time now, and he wasn’t a child anymore. He didn’t need Bruce telling him what to do, and he didn’t need to listen to lectures.  He hadn’t done anything wrong, and he wasn’t putting up with Bruce’s bullshit. 

 

He made sure his sigh was audible as he lolly gagged across the cave to where Batman and Robin were stationed by the computer.  Robin was poking tenderly at a scratch on his cheek, and it sent a twinge of guilt through Dick. He quickly pushed it away and rolled his shoulders. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dick replied coolly, very aware of the literal  _ growl _ that Bruce made.  

 

“You were absolutely out of bounds tonight!” Bruce shouted.  “You ignored my orders, you dove headfirst into danger, you nearly jeopardize the mission, and you took Robin with you!” 

 

Dick absolutely did not explain that Tim had followed him in by his own free will.  He may have been a robin, but he was thirteen years old- more than old enough to make his own decisions.  Dick had told him to stay put, but Tim had sprinted full speed after him. Dick wasn’t going to rat him out. 

 

Bruce was just being a jackass. 

 

“Everything was under control,” Dick argued.  “You weren’t there, you couldn’t see the opening I had.” 

 

“I put you there to keep Robin safe.  I put you there to keep out of the way, and you deliberately disobeyed me!” 

 

“I’m an adult!” Dick shouted back, throwing his hands up.  “I don’t need to be kept out of the way! And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Timmy isn’t exactly a little kid.  He was fine!” 

 

“He’s hurt!” 

 

“We get hurt!  We’re vigilantes!” 

 

“You could have gotten him killed!” Bruce roared, and he was so loud that Dick nearly stumbled back.  He would have, if he was younger. If he was the irresponsible kid Bruce thought he was. But he was full-grown, and if he could face the night without fear of the dark, he could win a God damned argument. 

 

Dick swallowed down the anger bubbling in him and narrowed his eyes at Bruce.  He took a deep breath. “Tim isn’t Jason,” he said slowly, and watched as Bruce’s face grew red.  

 

“Do not change the subject,” Bruce growled.

 

“You can’t hold him back just because you’re scared.  He’s fine. A few scratches, but fine. I knew where he was the whole time, and there wasn’t a minute-” 

 

“You knew he was with you, and you ran into a fire fight anyways,” Bruce said, voice now dangerously low and somehow worse than the yelling.  

 

“He’s fine!  I had it under control!  You dragged me through dangerous situations on a nightly basis when I was robin!”

 

This time, it was Bruce’s turn to sigh.  “You are too young to understand,” he said.  “Until I knew what you could handle, there was not a moment you were in real danger.  Tim is older, but he is still inexperienced, and he is not ready to be in those situations.” 

 

Dick blinked, surprised, but didn’t give Bruce any real reply.  He wasn’t buying it. 

 

“I do not tell you everything.  Don’t assume. You will get somebody killed.” 

 

Dick couldn’t help but scoff quietly, still enraged by this conversation.  He was keeping a very unsteady hand on his temper. Once Bruce started using his quiet voice, arguing wasn’t really worth it. 

 

“Whatever,” he snapped, feeling stupid and immature but deliciously vindictive as he did so. 

 

Bruce sighed again, one hand covering the cowl.  Dick decided it was time to get out of there, to fuck off back to Bludhaven and mind his own business for a while.  Why did he always think coming back was a good idea? Bruce  _ always _ did this.  Dick turned to go, but then Bruce dropped his hand and straightened his posture. 

 

“Come here,” he said.  “And remove your costume.  This conversation is not over.” 

 

Dick’s blood froze in his veins. He studied Bruce for a long moment.  “You can’t be serious,” he said. 

 

“Your behavior tonight was immature and unacceptable.  I did not tolerate it when you were growing up, and I will not tolerate it now.” 

 

“Bruce, I am a twenty-two year old man,” Dick said, disbelief welding him right to the floor.  He should have just walked out and left. He couldn’t quite get his legs to move. 

 

“A twenty-two year old  _ boy _ who has more than earned this tonight.  I will not repeat myself, young man. Come.  Here.” 

 

Dick didn’t know what was the matter with him.  He didn’t know why he stripped his uniform off then and there, kicking it aside even though his face was burning in humiliation and anger still made his hands shake.  

 

It felt almost… not quite comforting, but at least familiar.  He’d never liked it as a kid (of course he didn’t), but he’d understood why he’d deserved it.  Get punished, get forgiven, and everything was fine again.

 

Things hadn’t been fine between him and Bruce in a long time.

 

Dick walked over to Bruce in just the boxers he’d worn under his kevlar, raising his chin and tightening his jaw when he got there.  Bruce studied him for a long, tense moment, before moving. Pushing a chair away from the table and propping his boot up on it. He patted his thigh, once.  A clear message. 

 

It was a battle of wills, now.  Bruce was just waiting for Dick to act up and prove his point, that he was a stupid kid who couldn’t face consequences like a man.  Well, as much as Dick hated it, Bruce wasn’t winning this one. He stared Bruce straight in the eye as he stepped forward and bent over Bruce’s knee. 

 

God, the last time he’d been here was years ago.

 

The material of his pants was rough under his stomach, and his thigh was solid as concrete.  Dick shifted, set his hands flat on the table. Bruce settled a heavy hand in the middle of his back, and it took everything in him to not shrug him off. 

 

“You acted like a child tonight.  You didn’t think, you didn’t obey, and you decided to argue with me.  You understand?” 

 

Dick glared at the table and held back a dozen bad ideas dancing on his tongue.  “Sure,” he bit out, and in that moment Bruce’s hand cracked down. 

 

He smacked him a dozen times, putting what felt like his whole shoulder into the strikes.  They burned worse than Dick remembered, knocking him forward into Bruce’s leg with each spank.  He held himself stock still, tensing with each spank and holding back a flinch. Bruce’s leather gloves packed a bite.  Bruce had never spanked him like that before, the few times Dick had earned it while they were in uniform, Bruce had at least taken his glove off first. 

 

Dick held himself still and held his breath, counting off the strikes in his head.  After twelve, Bruce removed the hand from Dick’s back and Dick straightened up, gluing his eyes to the floor and standing at attention.

 

“Are we done?” he asked Bruce, staring him straight in the eyes as defiantly as he could manage. 

 

Something dangerous flitted across Bruce’s face, and for a moment Dick was worried Bruce was going to haul him back over and really give it to him.  It passed though, and Bruce lowered his foot and stepped away, turning his attention to the computer.

 

“We’re done,” he answered.  Dick nodded. He stormed across the cave and up the stairs, stomping purposefully the whole way and slamming the door shut when he got to the top, not a care in the world for the bad example he was setting. 

 

Alfred was waiting in the hallway when he came through the door.  He and Dick made terribly awkward eye contact, and Dick was suddenly aware that he was standing there nearly naked, shorts probably short enough to be showing the red at the tops of his thighs.  He coughed, kicked one foot against the other ankle, and crossed his arms. 

 

“Um… good evening, Alfred.”

 

“Are you okay, Master Dick?” 

 

Dick nodded, once.  “I’m fine, Alfred.” 

 

Alfred nodded as well, but continued giving him the facial expression that said he didn’t believe a thing.  “Best be getting to bed, then. You look beat.” 

 

Dick chuckled at Alfred’s strange sense of humor and clapped him on the shoulder before heading up the stairs to his room.  It looked the same as ever, absolutely untouched. His phone went off, and he answered it as he face-planted onto his bed.

 

“What’s up, Babs?” he asked, and was greeted with smug laughter.  He narrowed his eyes.

 

“I bet reinforced kevlar stings like a bitch, huh?” she said, still cracking up at herself.  Dick hid his face in the duvet and groaned. 

 

“You were watching the security cams?” he asked miserably. 

 

“Listening on the coms,” she replied, sounding far too pleased with himself.  “I keep telling you to mute those, y’know.” 

 

“I hate you,” he responded.  

 

“You too, darling.” 

 

\--------

  
  


Passing Bruce in the kitchen the next morning was nothing less than awkward.  Bruce shuffled in as Dick was helping Alfred with breakfast, carrying a stack of plates from the kitchen into the dining room.  He shuffled to the coffee maker, apparently dead on his feet, and Dick stopped halfway to his destination to watch. 

 

He didn’t know what he was expecting or hoping for.  A ‘good morning’ would be nice, perhaps. When he was younger Bruce would always check up on him in the mornings, ask him how he was doing even though he never hit him hard enough to hurt him. 

 

True enough, when Dick woke up that morning he hadn’t felt a thing.  Checking in the bathroom mirror proved that all previous damage was gone, save for a faint, painless bruise on the swell of one buttock.  Dick blamed the kevlar. 

 

Bruce didn’t say anything this morning though- no ‘how are you’ or ‘good morning’ or nothing.  Dick held his tongue and set the table, and when they sat down together for breakfast he noticed Tim studying him carefully. He pulled a face, tongue touching his nose, and it earned him an amused smile from the tiny scholar.

 

“Tim, we’re stepping up your training today,” Bruce said after a sip of his coffee.  Tim perked up. Dick raised a curious eyebrow. “Your strong points are surveillance and defense, but if you’re going to be running between bullets you’re going to need better reflexes.” 

 

Dick wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a joke or if Bruce actually believed he was able to swerve between gunshots.  Who did he think he was, the Flash? He didn’t question it though, just listened to their idle chatter.

 

Then Bruce said, “I’m guessing you have work to attend to in Bludhaven.” 

 

Dick didn’t realize he was getting his hopes up until they were dashed to the ground in front of him.  Bruce might as well have opened the door and booted him out. 

 

“Yeah,” he lied, face even and emotionless.  He’d been taught to be a good liar. One of the best.  “Amy called me this morning, need an extra hand on a homicide or something.” 

 

Bruce nodded, chewed on his bacon.  “Be careful,” he said, either not remembering that Dick was still just a beat cop or deciding not to bring it up.  Dick swallowed hard and distracted himself with his eggs. 

 

“Always am,” he replied cheekily, and actually earned a chuckle.  At least that was something. He’d take whatever he could get.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated. The more you talk to me, the more I write. Direct positive correlation, I promise.


End file.
